Packaging is everything or says marketing teams.  I don't always get it though, just tell me about the product and how much it costs.  While shopping today a box of Lucky Charms caught my eye.  It now has a new marshmallow shape; an hour glass.  I have no idea how an hour glass is lucky.

The last few months vintage products have been popping up on store shelves.  At first I thought it was kind of fun to see all the old packaging.  It's also much more pleasant to look at then some of the modern advertising as it's not trying to sell on sex appeal.  

Continuing with today's shopping I found numerous vintage packaged products.  Like Grape Nuts and Hershey bars. They proudly claim they are vintage thereby proving they think there is something to this vintage craze.  I'd be more willing to purchase the items if they would go back to vintage pricing.

I told Dear Man it would be nice if I could just go back to the vintage me.  I wouldn't want to go back to the first packaging as I only weighed 4 lbs 4 ozs at birth but perhaps my age 22 packaging would work.  Remember we are only talking packaging, not internal value.  I'm not sure I'm really worth more now then I was then but I know a whole lot more and I have no desire to take back that 22 year old attitude. 

So in honor of my going vintage I have changed my avatar and you can get a closer view of it below. 

Currently we live in the country.  This suits three out of four of my children.  When we were looking for a house I told my husband that it had to be out in the country with enough property for two growing boys to romp and play.  I didn't want to live in town with my sons cooped up in a tiny back yard.  Running around the neighborhood was and is not an option.  

While running around the neighborhood was a memorable experience for Dear Man, we don't live in times like that anymore.  I grew up in the country and ran around the five acres my parents had purchased.  Both of us spent most of our times outdoors.  It was fun and if you could get far enough away you might not be calld back to the house to do some chore. 

Tiki is not an outdoor boy.  When we send him out to play in an effort to rid him from our hair, he stands about not knowing what to do with himself.  He might shoot a few hoops or ride his bike for a bit but then he's back inside.  He has a wonderful imagination but he just can't seem to make it work out of doors. 

Several times he has complained that if he only lived in town he could do things that "real" boys do.  Like have a lemonade stand or deliver newspapers.  You don't get huge profits from lemonade on a dead end road that most people don't know about. In order to deliver newspapers in our area he would have to have a mountain bike and I'm sure a route covers ten miles or so.  It's just not an ideal setting for my entrepreneurial son.

Recently though an offer to deliver newspapers as a substitute for some friends of ours came along.  Tiki was thrilled to pieces!  The girls were not so keen on the idea but having no other choice they decided to buck up.  We have to drive to town in order to deliver the papers and as it is several routes we drive half of it and the other half is walked. 

This is our second time subbing and Tiki ran around like a pro.  Only at one home does he get to throw the newspaper onto the porch from the sidewalk.  To him that is the end all of being a paper boy.  He just loves that house! 

As we drive along, Tiki grabs a paper to get ready and then he hops out of the car and runs up to the house in need of a paper.  After carefully placing it as the subscriber has requested, he runs back to the car and off we go to the next stop.  Today I said, "Hurry, hurry!"  He opened the car door and said, "Go, go, go!" as he ducked and ran just as if he was a special forces soldier on patrol. See, he has imagination and he can play, but not in the "wild". 

At any rate I won't be the least bit surprised if he figures out a way to sell lemonade while he delivers papers. I don't even want to think about the kind of vehicle he would want me drive for that.  

I have no idea where Tiki got the idea that "real" boys only have odd jobs.  A book or two somewhere along the line I'm sure.  I need to find a book or two about some boys who just go outside and play all day long until their stomach notifies them that mother has baked a pie and it must be time for dinner. Let me know if you've read any such books.  I'm getting desperate.  

Right now I don't know where this post is going but I have to start somewhere and in all likelyhood it will probably end somewhere else.  That's the way it is with writing.  You begin, you end, and if you are blessed with enough thought you can usually put something in between. 

The real problem is when your brain is faster then your fingers and it moves along ahead and your fingers are left in the dust trying to pick out the tracks.  Usually the trail goes cold and the fingers sit huddled like well behaved children who have been told to stay put when lost.  The brain realizes it's left something vital behind and must go back and search for it.  Sort of like Mary and Joseph leaving Jesus behind in the temple.  They let their brains get ahead of them, each thinking the other had Jesus with them.  Although Jesus wasn't anything remotely like typing fingers trying to keep up.  So perhaps this was a bad example. 

Moving on. 

At any rate in all that middleness and forgetfulness, you spend a great deal of time trying to remember what it was your fingers were supposed to be typing because it was surely good.  You begin to wonder if the Lord blocked it from your memory on purpose because it may not have been so wonderful after all and then you can always say you were obeying the Lord which makes you feel better. 

Eventually you have to come to a close but not really being great on final impacts you spend another minute, or two, or fifteen, typing and retyping the last paragraph.  Finally you just give up and give it a parting shot. 

The end.

As he is such a small boy, Cheeko takes delight in things that are smaller then himself.  He's quite fond of Chiuauas, which he calls Chiwow-wows.  He watches owners walking their rat dogs with great admiration. 

He's also very fond of ants.  He is exceedingly anamored with them.  He makes them homes, transports them from here to there, bottles them, finds them food, and attempts to bring them into the house.  I draw the line at ants in the house.  This saddens Cheeko who doesn't understand at all why we aren't as fascinated with his little friends as he is.  He'll pop outside from time to time to check on them. 

For Christmas this last year my mom bought Cheeko one of those gel ant farms.  He could hardly wait for Spring to come so he could go collect several.  He liked it pretty well and the rest of us were fascinated by the tunnels they dug but Cheeko is also very fond of dirt and the whole shebang just wasn't dusty enough to suit his tastes.  So back out to the dirt he went to commune with the insects. 

Today Tiki found Cheeko outside crying over his ant pile.  He asked him what was wrong.  "I'm sad betause I tilled my ants."  No he didn't plow them under, he killed them.  He can't even tell us why he did it, he just did.

I'm not sure what this means for his ant farming future.  Will he give them up all together?  Was it just an experiment?  Will the price of ants go up due to a lack of product?  Will the ant queen retaliate? 

I think I'd better get out my heavy duty cayenne pepper and sprinkle a defense line around the house. 

Wow!  Things around here have been pretty crazy the latest couple of weeks as we prepared for my daughter Eyebright's graduation.   First we had a graduation BBQ that we invited over 90 people to and in which most of them showed up.  The weather had the audacity to storm and pour rain.  Everyone moved inside and finished up their dinner or dessert, watched Eyebright's slideshow, looked at her display table, chatted and then went home.  We had family from out of state here so they stayed with us.  It was fun having them but I was soooo tired I didn't feel like a very good hostess. 

Finally everyone left and we had two graduation ceremonies to attend.  One in the big city where we used to do most of our classes for homeschoolers.  The other here in our "new" town.  The first had 12 graduates and the second had 10.  (That's just the graduates that participated in the ceremony.) 

The whole thing was a pretty neat experience and it was interesting to see the difference between the two ceremonies.  The Big City graduation had cap and gowns, each student had to speak, as well as the parents.  Eyebright prepared a beautiful speech, I felt, and we were told so by many other participants at the ceremony.  The whole affair was very formal and much like a regular public school graduation. Only not so long, unless of course you had a graduating class of only 12.

The second ceremony the graduates chose to wear nice clothes and only caps so they could throw them.  Each graduate also had a slideshow and the parents spoke.  I liked this graduation ceremony much better but I definitely think gowns are the way to go.  It covers up bodies that are a little too revealed.   I'd also recommend taking along ear plugs, some of the music was LOUD and disorganizing to the brain.  I had a severe headache afterward.  My friend was there and she has hearing aids.  She told me she was grateful she could just turn her hearing aids off.  Normally when she does she takes them out so she can hear a little better but she left them in to help soften the blow to her ears.  

The slideshows themselves were WONDERFULL and so neat to see the baby pictures of the graduates and how young  the parents were, and to see them in "action" at their favorite activities and events. 

What I liked about both was how every single male grad cried. (Girls cried too, but the boys surprised me.) They were moved by their parents' speeches and all the grads thanked their parents for the sacrifices that had been made for them.  It was amazing to see that many students stand up in front of an audience of 300 people or so and say, "Thank you."  "I love you."  "I so appreciate what you did for me." 

Of course in the middle of all of this we had a day without internet at all and a power outage in the middle of that.  Right when we needed our computers of course. The next day we finally went over to my in-laws to use their internet just to catch up on e-mail. 

We survived it all!  It's done and unless BlueJane decides to accelerate her courses there won't be another graduation for four more years.  I think we will do the BBQ event again but I don't know if we will do the ceremony.  That's a little bit too much to ask of the people we love. 

Now, maybe life can go back to normal.  Yeah, riiighht.   

 I can't count how many times people have said to me, "I don't have the patience to homeschool."  I'm not sure what makes them think I do.  It's true that I have no problems standing in long lines at the bank, waiting for two hours to finally see the dr. or could care less if that car just cut me off.  When it comes to my children though I'm not that patient.  It irritates me no end that I have to spell everything out.  I get mad.  I yell.  

Yes, homeschooling is hard work but it's also so much fun!  Even in the midst of my yelling I have burst out laughing when my son Cheeko says, "My eyes awr pewfectwy fine!"  

So what keeps me going?  Even though I've said that public school is not an option it doesn't mean that there haven't been days that I wanted to get away from my children.  When things are going wrong I take a look at what is going on and see if I can fix it.  It's not always a quick fix.  Sometimes I have to be really honest with myself.  I will bite off more then I can chew and will fool myself into thinking that I can handle it.  (Makes me sound like a druggie doesn't it?)

More often then not when my children are way out of control the problem lies with me.  I have seen parents choose to put their children back into public school because they don't want to deal with themselves.  If the child goes to school it looks like the problem is solved but it's not.  The problem still lies within them, they've just rearranged their problems so that one or two faults are hidden or disguised.  It's a whole lot easier to spend forever on the computer if noone is standing there wanting to be fed, wanting you to correct their work, or just plain want you to play a game.  

While I've had to get real with myself I've also had to get real about curriculum.  Man, some of that stuff is boring!  I have wanted to keep plugging away because I paid good money for it.  My children are crying, I'm yelling, and that curriculum is still sitting there on the desk.  Again, I have to step back and ask myself, "Just what is going on here?"  "How can I make this better?"  I can't afford a new curriculum but I can afford to change the way I use it.  Curriculums are just guides, not prison wardens after all. 

One year for math Eyebright was really struggling.  One day by accident I started using a Fisher Price Little People king to "teach" her.  His kingdom was falling and he needed her help.  I would talk in a silly, deep voice and waggle the king this way and that.  He didn't have arms so he couldn't write the math problems himself and would "order" her to do it.  Eyebright loved it!  She wanted to help the king solve his problems and save his kingdom. 

Another year, another curriculum.  Same old song and dance.  That  year I had read a book that showed me how to use index cards to make games.  We turned Eyebright's math problems into games she could play over and over.  We were using the curriculum we had, just doing it differently.  Neither of these ideas took a ton of money.  I just needed to figure out how to use what I had.  As long as you are willing to search for a solution instead of the escape hatch you can find a cure to the problem. 

The only reason your situation would require a true escape is if you won't take care of a growing problem sooner.  A pilot doesn't just let a gas leak keep on leaking on his plane.  He finds out why it has a leak and fixes it.  He's only going to need that escape hatch if he was too stubborn or lazy to take the time to fix things while the plane was still on the ground.  While a plane can get a sudden leak, unlike a plane your child doesn't just up and become a problem that is about to blow.  The problem was there you just refused to face it.

So that's my second tip.  Get real with yourself and the situation.  Don't expect a quick fix. 

This past weekend we went camping in our new motorhome.  Dear Man has named it RVena.  It was just a quick trip to pick up Dear Man's bow from the archery shop and to test the motorhome before any longer trips were made. 

The weather was not in our favor.  The wind blew so hard and it was so cold the first night that when we woke up the next morning the west side of the trailer was a solid sheet of ice.  Thankfully, we were snug and warm inside the motorhome.  We stayed at a decent enough campground called the Narrows.  I say only decent because while it was clean, friendly, and has internet, it was after all near Burns, OR which is not my favorite spot on God's great earth. 

There was a yurt there at the campground, so after the honeymoon couple left we asked to take a peek inside, never having had the pleasure to view the inside of a yurt.  It was very nice and I told the children that perhaps when they got married we could have yurts built on our property to house them. 

Second day dawned fair and we headed off toward John Day.  First we made a quick stop in Canyon City at the community center.  They were having a garage sale to raise funds to fix the center.  Not finding anything too interesting to actually purchase, we traveled on to our camping destination, Clyde Holliday State Park.  It was pretty and there was only one other camper by the time we went to bed. 

Next morning we woke up to three inches of snow and more falling.  Not certain of what the road conditions would be like further on down the road, we decided to break camp early and head home.  Again, we had spent a snug and cozy night, Dear Man actually  got hot. 

While we spend most of our time in the motor home due to the weather we absolutely loved the trip and didn't want to come home.  I'm trying to talk Dear Man into letting us become fulltimers, (those who live in their RV permanently).  I'm finding all kinds of interesting information about fulltiming!  As I learn I'll share with you, whether you care to read it or not. 
Dear Man doesn't think I would be happy fulltiming.  Looking around our house at all the stuff we have been blessed with he thinks I would have a hard time parting with it all.  Not so!  I'm actually longing for the day when my children will move out and I can fully outfit their own houses thereby removing it all from my house.  The only reason I keep this stuff is for them. 

Besides, I could put my really good treasures in storage and come back to them someday when I'm forced to give up fulltime RVing.  I want to do it now before I'm decrepit and cranky and Dear Man is still alive.  I doubt it will happen though.  Dear Man is not in favor of it, at least not as long as we have to do it with four children on a permanent basis.  Still, I'll keep researching.  I can dream can't I?

This is my entry for the Homeschool Times News Blog Challenge.

New Sleep Disorder Among Homeschool Moms Diagnosed

The National Association of Pillowheads (NAP) has just realeased its two year study about a new sleep disorder among homeschool moms in the U.S. While this study concentrated on American mothers, NAP is certain that the disorder can be found in Canada, the UK, Australia, and all homeschool friendly countries.

The study showed that these mothers would fall asleep while listening to their child sound out words like epitome or while studying their child's textbook to figure out what went wrong with the science experiment.  Other cases revealed that these fits would occur during multiplication drills, spelling tests, correcting reports on the Battle of Actium, and family discussions for the 100th time on whether or not it is good hygiene to eat something off the floor after someone has let the dog in.

NAP has labeled this sleep disorder as Nardomoducelepsy. (Home educators that fall asleep suddenly.)  If you have experienced similar problems please notify NAP by leaving a comment below.

Dear Man is something of a Star Wars fan and he usually quotes movie lines at appropriate times.  For instance, when we are driving along and we hear a funny sound coming from the car he will say, "Minox chewing on the power cables."  (I have no idea if I've spelled Minox right, and a quick Google search wasn't very helpful.)  He also likes to wave his hand in front of me like Obie Wan did to the Storm Troopers and tell me what I will or will not do.  "You want to help me clean the garage."  Yeah.  Whatever.

After several weeks of reasearch Dear Man finally settled on the GPS navigational system of his choice, the TomTom.  The deciding factor?  He could get a Yoda voice telling him where to turn.  Dear Man says we won't call it the TomTom but YodaYoda.  I'll be driving down the road and Master Yoda will say, "In 200 yards a right turn you must take."  It's kind of fun, but why do I get the feeling that I may start to talk like that all the time? 

The children think this is great fun of course and think YodaYoda is much better then the voice we first chose before we downloaded Yoda.  The woman's voice would say, "Bear right."  My smart alek daughter, BlueJane complained for three miles that she didn't see any bear on the right and wondered if it would tell us about all the wild life we came across. 

I don't think that would be to far fetched of a possibility as long as the animal had a radio collar or micro chip in it.  Wouldn't that be interesting to be driving along and be told of all the animals that had wandered near our path of travel?  Maybe even someday YodaYoda will tell me that Minox are on the right. Then I'd know to get out of there fast!  That's the last thing we need, Minox chewing on the power cables.

We are still trying to teach Neeto how to drive.  Where we live you can either have the student drive for 100 hours and take the test or go through a drivers education course.  Most of the homeschoolers we know choose the drivers education course, I suppose because they are scared to death at the prospect of sitting in the passenger seat with their child at the wheel.  I also suppose it's because their children are impatient to get their license.  There are even parents who can't wait for their young teen to get their license because then they can send them to town on errands.

We chose to do the 100 hours.  I don't see any reason to put my daughter in a classroom that may or may not actually teach drivers ed among students who are more concerned about their freedom than understanding the responsibility that driving is.  (As to what is taught in the classroom, I saw a news report once about a teacher who just popped in a movie and another report where the teacher was combining their version of sex education with driving.)

It is interesting the different reactions Dear Man and I have as we ride about with our daughter.  I'm either so calm I could fall asleep or hollering that Neeto could have killed us all.  Not exactly relaxing but I figure it's real life learning.  One day she will have to drive with her own children in the car and they will be hollering from time to time.  Dear Man on the other hand takes everything very calmly, but asks questions the whole time. 

My reaction is about the same when Dear Man is driving.  I'm asleep or gripping the door handle sucking in my breath.  When Dear Man is forced to ride with me he tries to sleep and pretend I'm not there.  He says my driving makes him sick.  

I once knew a woman who had told me the story of her reaction to her husband's driving.  She was forever hollering at him to look out and one day he finally asked her what she saw that he didn't see.  She replied, "Death!"  

It takes a lot of trust to get into a car with someone else behind the wheel.  For the most part you don't think about it but then there's that person you meet and you realize with a queasy sort of feeling that you don't trust them with your life.  No way would you allow your child or yourself to ride with them.  It amazes me how many parents are hurt by the fact that you don't trust their child with your own child's life yet they would much rather not ride with their child.  Those that do somehow believe their child is always a safe driver whether they are in the car or not but they can't even trust that their child will feed the dog.

Driving is a responsibility, a privelege, not a right.  Neeto takes it very seriously, knowing that her life and those riding with her could be in jeopardy.  I don't just choose to believe it is so, I know it is so by the way she talks, how she frets when she realizes that she made a mistake, and how she has not been in any major hurry to get her license.  She talks about the day she can just get in the car and go shopping with her sister but she doesn't view it as a means of freedom from her parents. 

I won't expect everyone to trust my daughter simply because she has a license.  Trust her because you know that she truly cares about the lives she is responsible for.  Trust her because she doesn't view driving as a party on wheels.  Trust her because everything else about her life is something you can trust.  

Just over ten years ago, Dear Man and I purhcased a Select Comfort bed.  I was certain that I liked a firmer mattress then he did and he was adament that he needed something softer.  The Select Comfort was able to give us both what we wanted.  Interestingly enough our favorite setting for our own side of the bed just happened to be the same number!  No matter, we were both happy and knew that on any given night we could make our bed softer or harder depending on what we wanted. 

One night in a fit of anger towards Dear Man I deflated his side of the bed while he was sleeping.  Bravely as ever, he put me in my place by pretending not to notice and slept on that flat bed the whole night.  He was not going to give in to my childish games. 

After our last move we think somehow that we damaged the pump that fills our beds with air.  Dear Man's side of the bed kept deflating.  He began to blame me.  I explained that I had nothing to do with it but I could tell he wasn't ready to believe me.  That's what childish games do.  Leave lasting impressions.  Finally after some exploring and experiments Dear Man had to conclude that there was something wrong with the pump.  Although he did remark that he thought it was interesting that "his" side of the bed was the one with the problem.  (Don't worry, he said this with a grin on his face.) 

At any rate all of this has caused some serious sleep issues.  Dear Man's back hurt and he could never get a good nights sleep.  Even though my side of the bed was behaving itself, I'd still roll into the pit on Dear Man's side causing him to think I was crowding him out.  It's no fun sleeping on a grumpy, sleep deprived man in a pit, with my feet higher than my head. 

We tried seveal differnent ideas to build up his side of the bed but none of them worked.  We could have bought a new pump and hoped that it would fix our problem but we decided instead to get a different bed.  The beginning of our shopping had me voting for a firmer mattress but by the end of the day all the beds were beginning to feel the same and we opted for a softer pillow top version.  I figure it's ok seeing as I was so tired I almost fell asleep.  I did mention to the salesman that I thought slumber parties for mattress buyers might be a good idea.

We finally made our purchase and our bed will be delivered in a few days.  We are now anxiously counting down the days until we can both enjoy a good nights sleep.  I even dreamed about our new bed last night in the few hours I managed to remain asleep!

If once again this blog is void of new posts don't worry it hasn't died, it's just gone dormant as I've decided to hibernate through the rest of winter.

If your blog is beginning to bug you every time you look at it then what you need is an extreme blog makeover!  Christi, the wonderful designer of my blog, is sponsoring a contest on the HSB Company Porch giving away a very classy blog template.  It will give your blog a wonderfully calm atmosphere.